


Al Dente, Ai Denti

by AkiraMokona



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraMokona/pseuds/AkiraMokona
Summary: Working at a restaurant had its risks. You know, the usual. Diners and dashers, rude customers, hitmen.…Wait, what?Adult!Reborn x Reader
Relationships: Reborn/Reader, Reborn/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Al Dente, Ai Denti

There wasn’t much to be said about Namimori. It was, by far, the most average town you had ever lived in. After spending so many years of your childhood moving around, then having to move yet again in order to find the best university for your tastes, you had never found anywhere quite as plain. It seemed that there wasn’t any sort of catch or secret.

In truth, you didn’t mind. Living somewhere with a low crime rate and a decent shopping district was more than enough for you. You didn’t care much about the town’s nightlife or lack thereof. Given how close your apartment was to the biggest commercial area in town, you were pleased with the quietness of it all. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about the noise keeping you up.

Living in Namimori hadn’t been your first choice. It practically fell into your lap as an option after you had researched various cities looking for a good balance of everything you liked. You had taken the risk of a smaller town than what you were looking for, but Namimori had managed to surprise you with its normalcy.

And so, you settled in, content to relax a bit. You had spent so many years frantically balancing school, work, and sleep. With your schooling finished, you could focus on work and finding some time for yourself. You made the choice of working as a freelancer. It seemed to be the best option, compared to tying yourself to one company or trying to create something on your own. Your degree in engineering, which you had packed with as many specializations as you could, had given you quite a bit of leeway in regards to jobs. Your family had been concerned that you were being used as a glorified mechanic, but you had quickly reassured them. If you worked in a good area, you would be able to support yourself easily. Sure enough, you managed to get your name heard in the right places. It didn’t take long for several manufacturers in towns around Namimori to enlist your help.

As time when on, however, you were a bit bored. Your work as on an as-needed basis. You were paid handsomely for what you did, especially when you found way to make things more efficient, but there often week-long stretches where you weren’t needed anywhere. You found yourself looking for jobs outside of your field in Namimori, just to keep yourself busy.

The only thing you could really say about Namimori was that it was somehow capable of keeping a small Italian restaurant in business. When you saw that they were hiring, you had been skeptical at first. More traditional restaurants always flourished in small towns. Foreign and niche eateries only worked in cities. Somehow, even as you looked into other jobs, the restaurant’s owner never went bankrupt. In fact, they had made several renovations. New tile, a bigger building, classy furniture. It seemed that business was booming, even though you never saw the place filled to the brim. It was your own little mystery that you pondered from time to time. The one secret that Namimori had. Eventually, you ended up applying just to see how they managed to make such a profit.

The owner, Niccolo, had welcomed you with open arms. He was more than happy to have you working part-time so you could continue to focus on your freelancing. If something came up and a company needed you as soon as possible, he could take over for you for the day. He was a gracious boss. You had never once seen him stressed or angry. Of course, given how relaxed the business was, he had no reason to be.

Even now, as you leaned your upper body into a revolving oven that had suddenly stopped moving halfway through the day, he was gracious.

“Really, _____,” the faint sound of his accent was still there, even though it had slowly faded with time, “Go home. I can call someone in to look at the oven.”

“They probably won’t come until tomorrow afternoon,” you replied. The front had been opened and the shelves removed. The oven itself had finally cooled enough for you to get inside, “You won’t have anything fresh for tomorrow.”

“That’s true.”

You didn’t say anything at first. When something like this came up and you didn’t have the parts to fix it, he was happy to close the restaurant until it was fixed. You didn’t understand how he could stay afloat under such circumstances. Now, he seemed hesitant to do so, which meant that something had changed. You discarded those thoughts and refocused on the task at hand. You reached your hand out of the oven, “Blue six.”

Niccolo searched your toolbox, which you had gone to your apartment to get when the oven had first stopped working. Given how most of your work involved getting into tight spaces and not being able to access your tools on your own, you ended up labeling everything so you could ask someone to pass the correct tool. The cold weight of metal met your hand. You braced yourself against the wall of the oven as you fought to realign the tracks used to guide the shelves.

“Alright,” you straightened, wiping your forehead with your sleeve, “Let’s try it now.”

Sure enough, the shelf placed made a full lap. Niccolo cheered, applauding your work, “Thank you so much. I’ll pay you overtime for this.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled, putting the tool back and closing the box, “I’m happy to help.”

“Well, you should be compensated for your services! The kitchen staff went home an hour ago,” Niccolo crossed his arms, “Honestly, as much as I think of those two boys as my sons, they could use some of your work ethic.”

You stood, “Well, at least you won’t have to-“ your voice faded. Something had moved behind Niccolo. He must have noticed your expression change, because he moved to look. Turning his body allowed you to see that someone had walked into the restaurant.

It was a man about the same age as Niccolo, though he didn’t have what the restaurant owner affectionately called ‘a head chef’s body’. In fact, the stranger seemed rather well-built. His hair was dark, only his temples dusted with grey. The suit that he wore made you wonder what sort of job he had. A quick glance to his polished shoes told you that, whatever it was, he was paid well. He glanced between you and Niccolo, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Before you could ask who he was, Niccolo spread his arms, “Giovanni! It’s good to see you. How long has it been since you last came here?”

“I’ve been busy,” he replied. His voice was level, but the faint smile he gave showed some warmth. He leaned against the door frame leading out of the kitchen.

“And how’s business?”

“That’s why I’m here, actually.”

“Oh? Another meeting?”

Giovanni nodded.

“That’s good to hear. Old friends or new?”

“New.”

You glanced between them. You had the growing suspicion that they were being vague due to your presence. The idea of politely excusing yourself came to mind, but you hesitated. Curiosity was getting the better of you.

“And when can we expect this guest?“

“Tomorrow.”

“Ah, well, it will take me some time to prepare. I want to provide the best for you and your guests. Are you sure that there isn’t another day that would be better suited?”

“No,” his brow furrowed, back straight as he refused. The man’s intensity was something that sent a shiver up your spine. Whoever he was, he wasn’t to be opposed, “He’s going back to Italy in two days. We meet tomorrow. You’ve haven’t disappointed me yet, Niccolo. I want you to keep that record going.”

“Of course.”

Giovanni’s gaze shifted to you. He didn’t say anything. Despite the desire to leave making your throat tighten, his eyes kept you pinned to where you were standing. Suddenly, he relented. His attention returned to Niccolo, “I want you completely focused on cooking tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t dare have someone else cook for you,” Niccolo replied, “But what about the drinks and everything else? I wouldn’t want you to shout your orders to the kitchen.”

Giovanni lifted his chin in your direction, “She can take care of that.”

For the first time, you saw Niccolo falter. His weight shifted from one foot to the other. He didn’t look at you. He didn’t even ask, “Then she will.”

“Good. Bring only your best. I won’t accept anything else. This is important. More important than anything you’ve done for me before. I’ll see you tomorrow,” with that, the man turned and left.

Neither of you moved, even as the front door swung open. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that Niccolo exhaled shakily. He turned to you, “You’ve never met Giovanni before, have you? I don’t think the boys have, either.”

“What are you talking about? Who was he?”

“An old friend from Italy. We grew up together, actually.”

“But who is he?” you pressed, “He isn’t just some childhood friend, is he?”

Niccolo sighed, “No, he isn’t. I’ll tell you about him, _____, but you must promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone. Not the boys, not even your family. This conversation never leaves this building. Do you understand?”

You nodded. You had to know what was going on.

“Giovanni is…” he hesitated for a moment, then steeled himself, “He’s the head of the second most powerful mafia family in the world. He helped me move to Japan. In exchange, he uses the restaurant for meetings.”

You froze. For a moment, it seemed like this was just an elaborate prank. There was no way that such a thing was true. It couldn’t be real.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that I can change his mind. It would be cruel to drag you into this.”

You didn’t know what to say. He sounded desperate. He had never lied to you and there was no reason for him to start now. You didn’t want to know what sort of fate he would face if you refused, “I’ll do it.”

“What? No, _____, you can’t,” he shook his head and grabbed your hands in his, “Giovanni is a dangerous man. If tomorrow night ends badly…”

“I’ve worked here for years,” you countered, “I’ll be fine.”

“Please, you-“

It was too late. You had already made up your mind. You understood now. The days that the restaurant closed for repairs or when something wasn’t working was likely a cover. When Giovanni wanted to use the restaurant, it was emptied just for him. Now that you knew, you wouldn’t let Niccolo face it alone, “He asked for me specifically, didn’t he? We can’t disappoint him.”

When you showed up for work at noon the next day, Niccolo walked you through what would happen. There was a list of strict rules for you to follow. You listened and tried to commit everything to memory, though you still worried that you would make some sort of mistake. The rest of your time was spent cleaning and watching Niccolo prepare. Everything was made fresh so they would be ready for dinner.

A brief glance to the clock hanging in the kitchen showed that it was almost time for Giovanni and his guest to arrive. You straightened, smoothing out your waist apron.

Niccolo’s shoulders dropped, “Maybe you should go home.”

“I’m not leaving,” you argued, “Nothing will go wrong. You told me that nothing has ever happened during one of Giovanni’s meetings, so there’s no way that something would happen now,” of course, you knew that there was the possibility that something could, in fact, go wrong. You pushed such thoughts from your mind. As long as you did your job and followed the rules, you would be fine.

A knock on the front door startled you. According to Niccolo, Giovanni always arrived right on time. You quickly made it to the entrance and unlocked the door. Since the restaurant needed to be empty, the blinds had been closed and the door locked. You took a moment to swallow your nervousness before opening the door.

The man in front of you wasn’t Giovanni. He was younger, perhaps a few years older than you. He was dressed sharply. His suit had definitely been tailored to fit him perfectly. The hat he wore cast a shadow over his eyes, making them look even darker.

You stepped to the side, holding the door open for him, “Good afternoon.”

“Chaos,” he replied, his voice deep yet soft. He then walked past you to the lone table in the middle of the room. All of the other furniture had been moved to the staff room. Apparently, Giovanni always requested open space so no one had to worry about weaving between chairs.

You fought the urge to clear your throat. You weren’t sure what to say in response to such a strange greeting. The door was once again locked. You approached the guest. In normal circumstances, it was rude of you to ask if he wanted anything before the family’s boss showed up. However, since Giovanni always ordered the same thing, there was no need to worry. Niccolo would get everything ready at the same time. You smiled, “Would you like something to drink while you decide? We have some Italian wines.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied as he picked up the menu. Rather than opening it, however, he held it out to you.

You accepted it, though his response had surprised you. You didn’t think that he would refuse to eat or drink. According to Niccolo, most meetings lasted for several hours. He could have eaten before, but to not have anything at all was strange. You nodded, “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

He hummed in response, crossing one leg over the other. He still watched you, even as he leaned back a bit in his chair. It seemed that he was quite relaxed despite the circumstances.

You retreated to the kitchen, placing the menu on the counter.

“What are you doing?” Niccolo was pulling fresh bread from the oven that you had fixed, “The unopened wine bottles are in the-“

“He doesn’t want anything,” you replied.

“What? Not even a glass of water?”

You shook your head.

“Hm,” Niccolo leaned over the counter a bit, “This is the first time someone’s refused to eat or drink. I guess it can’t be helped. Get out a bottle of red wine. Giovanni will be here soon.”

Sure enough, there was another knock on the door a few minutes later. You opened the door to reveal the mafia boss taking one last drag from his cigarette before crushing it beneath his heel. He turned to you with a faint smile, “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, sir,” you replied, locking the door behind him.

Giovanni walked to the table and sat down, “I’m glad you could meet me here on such short notice, Reborn.”

“I had some other business in Japan,” he replied.

You retrieved a bottle of red wine. You made sure to open it at the table before pouring it in to Giovanni’s glass. It was a custom to show that the bottle hadn’t been tampered with. Dying from poison was apparently quite common for mafia bosses, so they took such precautions. Their conversation flitted between menial topics like the traffic and the current weather in Italy. Giovanni’s food followed, started at just the right time so it would be ready just after he showed up.

When you set the plate down in front of him, he didn’t hesitate. He clearly trusted Niccolo with his food. You weren’t surprised; it was a bond that had persevered for several decades. Reborn still hadn’t asked you for anything.

After finishing his first bite, Giovanni nodded to you, “Thank you. Give Niccolo my thanks, as well.”

“Of course,” you nodded. A quick glance was spared to Reborn. He was looking at you, but remained silent. You returned to Niccolo. He had brought two chairs from the staff room and placed them on either side of the counter, “Feel free to sit. Keep an eye on them, though. Giovanni sometimes starts a second bottle of wine, depending on how long the meeting goes,” he set down two plates of food. One was the restaurant’s signature dish, while the other was something you had eaten a few times during your break.

“If you’re going to be here for a while, you might as well eat,” Niccolo explained, “You like this one, right?”

You smiled, “Thank you.”

“Now, you need to trust me when I say this, _____,” Niccolo grinned, “if you go to Italy, make sure you stay away from all of the tourist traps. The quiet places are where things really shine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you mused, “Though I don’t think I’ll be traveling to Italy anytime soon,” you looked to Giovanni. His glass was almost empty. Judging by how often you had refilled his glass, he would have been just about done the bottle. You got up, grabbed another one, and walked to their table.

“You’re quite good at this,” Giovanni watched you, “What did you say your name was?”

“_____,” you replied. You knew that it was probably dangerous to give the head of a mafia family your name, but you figured that it was better than lying to him. As you refilled his glass, something caught your eye. Your gaze fell to his lap.

Along his thigh, half concealed by the tablecloth, was a gun. Giovanni’s hand kept it steady but discreet.

For a split second, you froze. The wine bottle’s weight shifted in your hands. You caught yourself before it could tumble onto him or spill. You straightened and carefully set the bottle down on the table. Your throat tightened.

“Miss _____.”

You looked to Giovanni first, thinking that you had been so panicked that you had missed his request. However, you realized that it was actually Reborn that had spoken, “Yes?”

He was stroking one of his sideburns. The slight curl made them rather cute, now that he had drawn attention to them, “You serve coffee here, I’m sure?”

“Yes, we do.”

“I’ll have an espresso, then.”

You nodded and grabbed the empty wine bottle, “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

When you returned to the kitchen, Niccolo was in the middle of cleaning up. You remained quiet as you made Reborn’s drink. You were almost in a daze as you moved. Giovanni had been holding a gun under the table. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was planning on killing Reborn. It seemed like the most likely option. You hesitated. Niccolo had insisted that, if anything were to come up, you would stay out of it. Accidentally spilling something on Giovanni to ruin the gun was out of the question. Besides, most modern guns could work even when damp. Your conscience chewed at the edges of your mind. You couldn’t just ignore the information you now had.

You glanced to Niccolo, making sure that he wasn’t looking. You then took out a napkin and a pen. It was brief, but at least you could give Reborn a warning. A quick fold hid your message. You returned to the table and placed the cup and saucer in front of Reborn. The napkin looked inconspicuous. Giovanni wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Thank you,” Reborn’s dark eyes flickered to you once more. He didn’t touch his drink.

You offered him a smile before you left to help Niccolo clean. Hanging around them was frowned upon, since it was likely that they were talking about sensitive information when you weren’t nearby. As you swept the floor in the kitchen, you were quiet enough to hear bits and pieces. You occasionally looked at them in your periphery.

“So, can you do it or not?” Giovanni asked.

“Of course I can. It’s simply a matter of you being able to afford my services.”

“I’ll pay double whatever you were offered for your last job. If someone tries to change your mind, I’ll triple what they offer you.”

You stiffened as Reborn pulled a pen from his pocket and opened the napkin you had placed with his cup. He looked to the man across the table from him, “How do you want it done?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just make it clean. I don’t need this coming back to me. They have too many alliances.”

“When?”

“Soon. I’m not sitting in second place any longer than I have to.”

Reborn scrawled something on the napkin. You swallowed thickly. There was no way that he hadn’t seen your note. Your only concern was that he was going to expose you for trying to help him, intentionally or not. The pen disappeared into his pocket. The napkin was folded once again, “I leave for Italy tomorrow morning. I’ll call you once I’ve landed.”

Giovanni smiled. You had seen him tuck the gun into his belt when Reborn wasn’t looking, keeping it pressed against his back, “Good. Given your reputation, I’m sure you’ll take care of this easily. I look forward to seeing the results,” he stood, “Did you drive here?”

“I took a taxi from my hotel.”

“My driver is outside. It’s better than waiting for another car.”

You expected Reborn to refuse. No one in their right mind would agree to be in a car with someone that had a gun. Reborn nodded, “Thank you.”

They both got up. Niccolo left the kitchen, drying his hands with a towel, “I hope you enjoyed yourselves.”

“You never fail to disappoint, my friend,” Giovanni grinned, “And you, _____, have impressed me. Perhaps I’ll request your presence for my next meeting. Have a good night.”

With that, both of them left. Giovanni’s meetings didn’t have a set dollar amount; he simply paid for the service. If it managed to help Niccolo profit consistently, he overpaid drastically. Niccolo had promised, despite you insisting that you didn’t need to be paid, that you would see a portion of the money.

Niccolo’s hand on your shoulder almost made you jump, “Good job, my dear. I’ll finish cleaning. You can go home.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Once you grabbed your bag from the back, you walked through the dining room. You stopped by the table. Niccolo was still cleaning. He was even whistling as he worked. Your attention drifted to the Reborn’s espresso. He hadn’t even touched it. You didn’t understand why he had ordered it. Maybe he didn’t want to seem cold. Maybe the meeting had ended before it was a suitable temperature for him.

The napkin was still there. You grabbed it. Unfolding it revealed your message.

_Be careful. He has a gun._

Beneath your writing was Reborn’s. Your eyes widened as you read it, hands trembling. The note was immediately crumpled and shoved into your bag. You couldn’t let Niccolo or anyone else stumble upon it. You left the restaurant, the three words in response to your warning lingering in your mind.

**So do I.**


End file.
